Hurt (Updated)
Sorry, I was a bit dazed when I first posted this.
I'm fine; feeling like I betrayed The Boy was a RIDICULOUS thing to feel (as I've been told). I'm not cheating on him, he dumped me. Der.
The bruises will go, I'll be able to sit down without pain soon enough, but hopefully there is a guy out there with really sore nuts. I kick hard. (Yay, kickboxing).
To clarify, I'm not using the 'R' word, just what he did really hurt, and I asked him to stop repeatedly, and he didn't, so I fucked him off.
Lessons Learnt:
- Stay away from boys for a while
- Despite my bravado, still not quite over The Boy yet
- Smoking is DISGUSTING.
And if I want to post on here, I will. If you are going to judge me for picking up a guy in a pub, at least do it in the comments section, don't send me fucking anonymous emails. I post on here to get clarity about how I'm feeling about things, because more often than not it's hard for me to get that in real life. I'm not proud of what happened, but I'm not ashamed either, so go fuck yourself.
Now, for the rest of you, you can see me waving from a hot air balloon tomorrow morning; that is, if I get up in time.
Over and fucking out (for a while).
M
11 comments:
Martie, if someone hurt you, don't feel bad on account of The Boy.
Feel bad for yourself. And if he hurt you, you should tell someone. Someone you trust. Someone, not The Boy, because he will probably not be there for you right now.
Leave The Boy right out of it.
Call the cops or, better yet, slip me the details so Caz and I can have some fun at someone else's expense.
And, most importantly, don't blame yourself for the actions of a neanderthal - and take care of yourself.
need my posse to late night visit someone?
dude... what the fuck is going on in martieland at the moment?
I second Mars' comment. What the hell? You sound ok now, at least, but fuck!?
Mich - I don't feel bad because of The Boy anymore - it honestly felt like I was cheating on him. And I haven't had any contact with him anyway, not that I would tell him.
Hack - Have thought long and hard about this one. And might chalk it up to experience - ie - don't pick up guys in pubs anymore. And I only have a name, a vague idea of where he lives (near me), and some mutual-ish friends. I might do some digging.
Kiki - see above. Although a posse is cool, very cool. Crib colour?
Desci/Mars - I believe it's called the-second-week-after-being-dumped-self-destruction-phase-with-the-aid-of-alcohol. I might change the name of my blog. I might just stay sober.
What sort of lame cunt is sending you anonymous emails about this? Seriously.
Get a fucking clue, retards. Who cares if she picked up at the pub or shagged a guy she'd known for her whole life. No means no. If Martie *had* been raped would you be sending emails blaming her? Don't blame the victim because some neanderthal fuckwad doesn't understand the basic concept that he can't just help himself to whatever he likes, whenever he likes.
red, like blood. actually, it's cardinal, but people usually mistake it for red.
annoying!
well don't leave us all together... geez. just cause some wanker emails you, that's shit. you better be back, or i'll get my posse onto you.
fuck, can I go to the toilet without your permission?
also - according to my anonymous 'fan', I am IMELDA!
oh my god, i'd laugh so hard if you ended up being imelda.
you should put that pic up that they had over at TSSH ages ago, which everyone thought was her. make it your profile pic or something!
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